The Works of Shakespear: In Eight Volumes, Volum 4J. and P. Knapton, 1747 |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The works of Shakespear [ed. by sir T.Hanmer]., Volum 4 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1750 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
anſwer arms Bard Bardolph baſe becauſe beſt blood Boling Bolingbroke cauſe CENE coufin Crown Dauphin death doth Duke Duke of Burgundy Earl England Enter Exeunt Exit faid Falstaff father fear felf firſt foldiers fome foul France French fuch Gaunt give Glou Grace Harfleur Harry haſt hath hear heart heav'n Hoft honour horſe houſe juſt King Henry Liege lord lord of Westmorland Majesty maſter morrow moſt Mowb muſt never night noble Northumberland Oxford Editor peace Percy Pift pleaſe Poins Pope pow'r preſent Prince Pucel purpoſe queſtion reaſon Reignier reſt Rich Richard Richard Plantagenet ſave ſay SCENE ſee ſelf ſervice ſet Shal ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhew ſhould Sir John ſome ſpeak ſpirit ſtand ſtay ſtill ſuch ſweet ſword Talbot tell thee theſe thoſe thou art tongue uncle unto uſe Vulg Westmorland whoſe word York
Passatges populars
Pàgina 117 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities : But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! Wor.
Pàgina 187 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Pàgina 392 - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Pàgina 52 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
Pàgina 411 - Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in: As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him!
Pàgina 281 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Pàgina 249 - O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Pàgina 187 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Pàgina 252 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Pàgina 26 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...